Look, sir, there it is!" Juon tucked up the wide shirt sleeve from his herculean arm and Szilard was astonished to see the half healed and cross-like scar--it had been a deep gash.
"So now, sir," pursued Juon, "you can see that I am not dreaming.

Watch well, for Fatia Negra will come.

Not to-night for he awaits you on the road by which you came.

But to-morrow he will know that you have dodged him by going through the 'Roman Gate' and to-morrow night you can safely reckon upon him." Szilard charged Juon not to say a word to anybody about what he had told him and promised him a reward if what he had said really came to pass.
That night nothing happened, and till the afternoon of the next day he lingered idly at the mill.

Towards midday they heard in the forest a loud barking of dogs; the miller said it was no doubt the lord of the manor hunting bears.
"He chooses a very inopportune time," growled Vamhidy, "he will scare _my_ game away." The hunters were not long in issuing from the forest, they seemed to have lost the track of the bear.
Vamhidy sent word to the gentlemen that he would be much obliged to them if they would postpone their amusement to some more convenient season as business of a graver sort was going on here.